The Butterfly Effect
by JWood201
Summary: "If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies." - Unknown
1. Mary Ann

**The Butterfly Effect**

One day, Mary Ann let it slip.

She didn't mean to. And she most certainly was not planning on it.

The sentence just popped out of its own free will on an otherwise nondescript Tuesday while she was hanging up the laundry.

It was just another example of how she had become very prone to, not to mention particularly adept at, making her life incredibly awkward since becoming shipwrecked.

He must be rubbing off on her.

On this morning, Mary Ann was hanging the freshly-laundered clothes up to dry under the giant banyan tree. It was her new favorite place on the island. Quiet and peaceful, tropical flowers and palm plants sprouting up around the clearing. An abnormally large number of butterflies fluttered between blossoms, a vibrant jumble of reds, blues, oranges, and purples.

The thick banyan branches reached out in all directions, some almost parallel to the ground. The tree had spread out laterally, the exposed roots looking like dozens of smaller trunks all fused together. Not only did this make it fascinating to look at, but it was also quickly christened the best climbing tree on the island.

"Hi, Mary Ann!"

Mary Ann flinched and clutched the laundry basket, managing to grab Mrs. Howell's silk blouse before it tumbled out and hit the ground.

"Gilligan! I told you to stop doing that!"

"Sorry!" His voice floated out of the leafy treetop. After a moment, he appeared amidst a thick cluster of leaves at least twenty feet above her head. "Can I help?"

"I'm almost done. Come down. You're going to fall."

"No, I won't." He had disappeared again. "Come up."

Mary Ann sighed, only thinly veiling the amusement in her voice. "Gilligan."

"Come on," he laughed, sounding closer to the ground, "I'll help you." Gilligan descended a few more feet, expecting to find Mary Ann glaring up at him in that disapproving way she did when he was doing something dangerous. Instead, he saw only the abandoned laundry basket. Next to it, her shoes. "Mary Ann?"

"Hi."

Gilligan yelped and spun around, grabbing the bough over his head right before he lost his balance. Mary Ann was standing behind him on the branch, leaning casually against the trunk and grinning. He gaped down at the ground, then back up at her. "How did you – ?"

"I'm from the country. I know how to climb a tree." With that, she grasped the branch above her and pulled herself up, disappearing into the foliage.

Gilligan stared, dumbfounded and impressed, before scrambling to follow her.

He found her not too far up, sitting on a broad branch, staring down at the ground past her swinging bare feet. Gilligan sat down next to her and joined in watching the vivid insects float beneath them.

"Did you know that there's a type of butterfly called skippers?" he offered after a moment. "We don't have any here, though. They live mostly in the Neotropical regions of Central and South America," Gilligan explained proudly and Mary Ann raised an incredulous eyebrow. "But I guess maybe we could have some here. Some butterflies migrate thousands of miles."

"Did the Professor tell you that?"

"Nope." Gilligan grinned and Mary Ann almost looked impressed. "I got it from one of his books. I love butterflies," he added simply.

"Me, too."

Gilligan was silent for a minute and Mary Ann could tell that he was thinking hard. "Maybe these butterflies were going someplace else. Maybe they got blown off course and ended up here by accident like we did."

Mary Ann smiled. "That's very possible. Has the Professor ever told you about the Indian butterfly legend? It says that if you catch a butterfly and whisper a wish to it, when you release it, it'll take your wish to the heavens to be granted."

Gilligan nodded. "Yeah, he did."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Maybe," he admitted after a moment. "Have you?"

"Maybe. Butterflies remind me of you, Gilligan."

And there it was.

It was almost like he had set her up and she had walked right into it.

Astonished, Mary Ann stared blindly into the leaves. Her mind raced, telling her that it was searching for a way out, but really it was too busy imploding upon itself.

At least she hadn't told him why.

"Why?" Gilligan squinted at her and then grinned broadly. "Because we go butterfly hunting together all the time?"

And here it was. The perfect out. Just lie and say, "Yes."

Mary Ann gave him a weak smile. "No."

Before Gilligan had a chance to take another guess, she was gone, deftly moving from branch to branch below him. He watched her scoop up the empty laundry basket and her shoes and disappear hastily into the jungle.

The next day, after hours of successfully avoiding the sailor to give him time to forget all about it, Mary Ann was carrying a freshly-baked coconut crème pie across the clearing when he appeared seemingly from nowhere.

"Is it because I'm bright and colorful?" Gilligan ventured. He beamed and spread his arms to display his red rugby shirt in all its glory.

Mary Ann faltered for a moment. "No," she admitted and handed him the pie as a distraction as she hurried away.

On Thursday, Mary Ann perched on the branch in the banyan tree, bright afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and speckling her legs. She was watching the butterflies flutter amongst the flowers below when a disembodied voice nearly toppled her from the branch.

"Is it because I'm not afraid of heights?"

Mary Ann gasped and gripped the tree. She gaped up at him, ten feet above her and barely visible peeking through the leaves. "No!"

The next afternoon, Gilligan fell into step beside her as she descended the hill to the lagoon, laundry basket balanced on her hip. "Is it because I'm super fast and graceful?" Gilligan rushed ahead of her to demonstrate this point and promptly tripped and fell flat on his face in the sand. Mary Ann kept quiet as she passed him, but rolled her eyes and allowed herself a smile.

After dinner on Saturday night, Mary Ann circled the table collecting the empty plates. When she got to Gilligan, he held on tight to his plate as she picked it up. He stared up at her intently and asked in his most serious and reverent voice: "Is it because when I'm sick I wrap myself up real tight in my blanket like a cocoon?"

Mary Ann burst out laughing and shook her head as the other five castaways exchanged perplexed looks. Gilligan released the plate and slumped down on the bench in defeat.

He was nowhere to be found on Sunday and Mary Ann had wrongly assumed with a flood of relief – and a secret hint of disappointment – that he had finally given up. In reality, Gilligan was in the tree, lying across a thick branch, watching the butterflies, and thinking.

At dusk on Monday, Gilligan marched decisively toward the girls' hut, the Professor's World of Facts book open across one palm. The scientist, who had been reading the book as he wandered to his hut just a moment before, stood flummoxed and empty-handed in the center of the clearing. He watched with disbelief as Gilligan unceremoniously and uncharacteristically flung the door open and planted himself in the doorway.

"I've got it!" he announced. "It's because when butterflies migrate, they –" and here he consulted the textbook he had commandeered "– use their brain's natural sun compass to navigate." Gilligan snapped the book closed and nodded once, definitively. "Just like sailors."

A second later, the Professor helped Gilligan up from the ground where he had landed after Ginger threw him out for barging in while she was changing. Gilligan irritably brushed the sand from his pants. "Is that it?" he called through the open window.

"No!" Ginger shouted back.

On Tuesday, Mary Ann approached the clothesline under the banyan tree with a basket full of wet laundry. A bright red butterfly landed on the line next to Gilligan's socks and she smiled at it as she attempted to keep hold of the cumbersome basket.

"Hi, Mary Ann," a voice whispered directly behind her.

She flinched and clutched the basket. "Gilligan!" The butterfly took flight as Mary Ann tried to keep the laundry from tumbling to the ground.

"I'm sorry! You said not to yell from the tree anymore and I didn't want to scare you." Gilligan smiled sheepishly at his failed plan and rescued her from the basket's burden. He set it down in the grass and took some shirts and a handful of clothespins to the opposite end of the line.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, slowly inching towards the center of the clothesline and each other. "Aren't you going to take a guess?" Mary Ann asked as she hung the final shirt.

"No."

"You're not?"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Oh. Okay." Mary Ann collected the extra clothespins from him and crouched to pick up the basket.

As she stood, she heard it slip out:

"It's because you give me butterflies."

And there it was.

Mary Ann eyes grew wide with astonishment that her own voice would betray her like this. She quickly turned and started across the clearing. She could feel him staring at her back.

Mary Ann had almost made it to the tree line when he finally spoke. "You mean you're –? I ..." Gilligan paused to regroup. "You mean like how I caught that pussycat swallowtail and gave him to you for your birthday?"

Mary Ann froze.

And here it was. The perfect out. Just lie and say, "Yes."

"Yes," she replied softly. "That's exactly what I meant." Mary Ann somehow willed her feet forward and in an instant had disappeared into the jungle.

Gilligan stood under the banyan tree for a long time, confusion settling in his heavily furrowed brow. He turned as a butterfly landed on the clothesline next to him. She opened her wings, presenting a perfect pattern of red and white speckles. The insect perched there, perfectly still, and seemed to stare right at him until Gilligan pulled his gaze from it and looked again toward the spot where Mary Ann had vanished into the trees.

Gilligan frowned slightly with discomfort. His hand came to rest lightly on his stomach for the briefest moment. He spent the rest of the day in the tree, lying across a thick branch, watching the butterflies, and thinking.


	2. Gilligan

**The Butterfly Effect**

One night, Gilligan let it slip.

He didn't mean to. And he most certainly was not planning on it.

A few weeks after their encounter under the banyan tree, the whole butterfly incident had nearly blown over. Things were almost back to normal, until Mrs. Howell obliviously asked why Gilligan no longer helped with the wash and the Skipper finally noticed that the butterfly nets hadn't been out of the supply hut in nearly a month.

On the night in question, the castaways had enjoyed one of their occasional luaus on the beach. After a rich three course meal, the other castaways insisted that Mary Ann rest, since she had done all the cooking, and that they would clean up. They cleared their places and the men carried everything back up to camp where Ginger and the Professor did the dishes.

As Gilligan returned to the beach to tend to the bonfire they had built, he saw Mary Ann lying on her back in the sand staring up at the night sky. He watched her for a moment, intending to turn around and head back to camp, but his feet suddenly developed brains of their own and steered him down onto the beach.

Gilligan flopped down on his back between her and the fire. Mary Ann tightened her arms around her middle, partly to fend off the evening chill and partly to quell the familiar feeling fluttering up inside of her. Gilligan clasped his hands behind his head and gazed intently into the heavens.

"That one looks like a hamburger."

"What?"

"That group of stars. And that one looks like a monkey." Gilligan pointed a little farther to the east and Mary Ann sighed.

"I'm pretty sure they've already figured out the constellations, Gilligan."

"Nah. The Professor says they find new stars all the time. There's a baseball glove," Gilligan continued, undeterred. "And a platypus."

He grinned as Mary Ann finally laughed. The unattractive bursting kind of laugh that she hated to hear explode from herself, but that he loved to be the cause of. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. What about those?" she asked, pointing carelessly at a random group of stars.

"Socks," he responded without missing a beat.

"You're making these up!"

"No, I'm not. What do you see right there?" Gilligan asked, selecting another section of sky to point at.

Mary Ann peered at it for a long moment. "A bunny?" she ventured and knew immediately that she had failed when Gilligan sighed.

"It's a cow. I thought you of all people would get that one."

To Mary Ann, the night sky looked like nothing more than a beautiful piece of lush black velvet punctured by tiny glittering Christmas lights – arranged in no particular order. She somehow failed to be able to distinguish anything more complex than the Big Dipper, and even that was hit or miss.

"What else is up there?" she asked anxiously, shifting in the sand to settle in like a child getting ready for a bedtime story. Mary Ann was preparing for the familiar trip into the magical land inside Gilligan's imagination, where anything was possible.

Mary Ann loved it inside Gilligan's head and had previously been privy to his spectacular theories on extraterrestrial life and sea monsters. She was also honored to be introduced to the swaggering investigator character he created for himself as a child and was even initiated as his plucky sidekick when Mrs. Howell's diamond bracelet went missing.

(Although they followed all the clues and used silly British accents to solve the mystery, they still told the others that they found the bracelet by accident. Because they just wouldn't understand).

An unfortunate side effect of her recent embarrassed avoidance of the sailor was that it had been awhile since Mary Ann witnessed some Gilligan magic and she missed it terribly. She anticipated tonight to rival the time he charmed a fish out of the lagoon without a fishing pole, so she settled in to observe him fill the sky with images that only he could dream up.

"Well, over there's a goldfish, a butterfly, and a stack of pancakes," he began. "Those other stars to the south look like a drum set, so I named that constellation Irving." He flashed her a brief mischievous smile. "After the Mosquito." Gilligan looked back up and saw that he'd forgotten one. "Oh, and an ice cream sundae."

Mary Ann turned to look at him for a moment before doubtfully studying the sky again. "You really see all those things? I mean, _really see_ them?"

Gilligan shrugged. "Sure."

"How? I don't."

He shrugged again. "You just have to look."

Mary Ann was quiet for a moment. "Where's the butterfly?" she asked softly.

Gilligan extended his arm and pointed into the heavens. "There."

Mary Ann stared at the spot Gilligan was pointing at for a long few minutes. She squinted at it in deep concentration, then finally frowned. She scooted closer to him and laid her head right next to his to see the sky from his angle. She followed the line of his arm with her eyes and raised her own hand to point. "There?"

"No." Gilligan took her hand and moved it to where this new constellation allegedly existed. "There. See, there's the one wing." He gently guided her hand to trace the image as he described it. "There's the other. And the body. And two antennae."

As Gilligan held her hand and outlined the shape of his vision in the air, the picture magically began to appear before her like a giant game of connect the dots. When a perfect butterfly was staring down at her from above, Mary Ann gasped.

"Do you see it?"

"I do! I see it!" Mesmerized, Mary Ann stared up at it through huge eyes, not wanting to blink for fear of it disappearing. She'd never be able to find it again by herself. "What did you name it?"

"Mary Ann."

It took a moment of waiting for him to continue before she realized that he had answered her question and wasn't just prefacing his real response.

Mary Ann turned to him, the coarse sand cold on her cheek. "Why?"

"Because we used to go butterfly hunting together all the time," he replied. That answer was good enough for Mary Ann, although it made her feel incredibly guilty, but Gilligan continued, admitting far more than he intended. "And because butterflies are delicate and beautiful, but they're also really strong because they survive really tough changes."

And there it was.

Gilligan finally turned to look at her then, their noses an inch apart at most. She was watching him in wonder, her lips slightly parted in speechlessness.

His face fell as realization hit him. "Uh oh."

Overwhelmed, Mary Ann stared at him a moment more, then quickly closed the tiny space between them and pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled back a few seconds later and opened her eyes, he was staring at her in blank shock. His mind was unusually still, unable to produce a single rational thought, let alone decide which expression to send to his face. So he blinked at her dumbly until she turned away and pointed arbitrarily into the sky.

"Is that the hamburger?"

Gilligan blinked at her once more before looking where she was pointing. "No," he managed.

"What about that one?"

"No, it's over here." Gilligan identified the correct cluster of stars and Mary Ann pouted.

"That looks like a Kupa Kai to me."

Gilligan finally laughed. "No, if it was a Kupa Kai, he'd have lots of little star shrunken heads hanging on his belt. But this one over here is Superman. See his cape?" With a great flourish, he outlined where a sweeping cape hung in the sky.

"I thought that was the hamburger."

"No!" he laughed again and Mary Ann grinned. "The hamburger is over there! Right next to Inspector Reginald Viceroy and his trusty sidekick Mary Lou Monarch," Gilligan added in his ridiculous British accent, referring to a particularly starry section of sky where he apparently could pick out two human-looking constellations.

Silence descended on the beach as Mary Ann searched the sky again for her namesake. She was able to find it by herself and grinned in triumph. She turned and watched the sailor's shadowy profile stare up into the night, backlit by the glowing fire.

"Gilligan. Will you take me butterfly hunting tomorrow?"

She caught him smile as the firelight flickered across his face for the briefest moment.

"Sure, Mary Ann."


End file.
